As if the umbilical chord
is snipped again and again—
weeping in an echoing 
stairwell at Logan Airport 
after he disappears
into the shadows 
of the security line,
or embracing her
at the gate, her peeling 
apart and moving 
toward the hatched 
opening—is it always
through a dark tunnel
that we enter a new world,
and how many times 
must I say goodbye.

Sarah Dickenson Snyder has written poetry since she knew there was a form of writing with conscious linebreaks. She has three poetry collections: The Human Contract (2017), Notes from a Nomad (nominated for the Massachusetts Book Awards 2018), and With a Polaroid Camera (2019). Recently, poems have appeared in Artemis, The Sewanee Review, and RHINO.